Beauty Submits To Her Beast (16 page)

“I’m worried about Damon. He never came back after the ball.” She moved closer, hands clasped behind her.

Glorie leaned forward. “He returned home. The event ended with the ball.”

Caitie brushed that off. “Yeah, clock strikes midnight, and poof, the fairytale is over. I get that. But Damon needs help. Hell, he shouldn’t even be driving. He had a bad nightmare Thursday night and refused to sleep Friday night because of his dreams.” They’d spent the entire night talking about favorite books, music, politics, and movies and TV shows. But not about his past, as a boy or his time as a SEAL. She was worried about him. He’d been like an injured animal who’d run off to lick its wounds. He needed help.

“Why are you here, Caitlin?”

Boldly, Caitie seated herself. “I want to know why he blames himself for his men getting killed. He told me some but there’s more.”

Bryce lifted a brow. “What gives you the right to ask?”

“Love.” God, there it was. She couldn’t deny it to herself or to them. She’d fallen in love with Damon. She’d never believed in love at first sight, and maybe it had taken more than that first encounter, but she was hip deep.

“Are you sure it’s not just lust? You’ve only known this man a couple days.”

Caitie leaned forward, arms on the desk. “Judging from the look of you and your partner, I’d say the two of you were feeling more than lust for each other. From what I overheard between Cinderella and Red in the ladies room, she had no idea who you were. Can you truthfully tell me you don’t love her? Or want the chance to see if what you feel is love?”

Glorie laid a hand on Bryce’s arm. “She’s got you there, pet.” She stared intently at Caitlin for a few moments. “Damon needs to tell you whatever he wishes when he wishes, but you are right. He needs help, and I think you might be the one. What is your plan?”

“My horses and the men on my ranch can help him come to terms with what happened. I’ve seen it happen and want to give him that chance.” Not to mention the fact that she loved the man and wanted the chance to prove to him that he deserved to be happy and at peace, that they deserved their shot at a happily-ever-after ending.

“You think a horse is going to save Damon from himself?” Skepticism and disbelief laced Bryce’s voice.

Caitie stood and paced. “He doesn’t believe he deserves to live. He thinks he should have died with his men. He needs to get out of his head and see that he has so much to offer and experience.”

“In other words, you plan to give him a kick in the ass.” Glorie leaned back in her chair, a glint in her eyes.

Tipping her chin, Caitie met the Domme’s glance. “If need be. If that’s what it takes to get him back to the land of the living, then I’ll gladly kick his ass to hell and back.” Never mind he was already in his own private hell.

“What do you want us to do?”

“Bring him to the ranch.”

“And if he refuses?”

Caitie firmed her lips. “Intervention. I’m sure you two can figure out a way to get him out there.”
To me
.

Glorie laughed low in her throat. “I’m in.” She stood. “I’ll bring him to you. The rest is up to you.”

Caitie nodded. “Thank you.” She turned to go.

Glorie’s voice stopped her. “Did the weekend live up to your expectations, Caitlin?”

Laughing softly, Caitie met the Domme’s amused eyes. “I think I got a lot more than I bargained for,” she replied, thinking of that spanking session. “I’m in your debt. It was wonderful.”

“Pull off whatever you have planned, and I’ll consider us even.”

Minutes later, seated in the back of a limo, Caitie pulled out her tablet and started making notes and plans. Not once did she allow herself to think that her Dom would not come to her ranch. She couldn’t.

****

Damon brooded in the dim light of his studio apartment. Curtains closed, lights off, just him, the darkness, and his demons. His bedding lay in twisted tangles on the couch, testimony of his bad night. Twice he’d woken up, arms searching for Caitlin, but his night angel wasn’t there to ease his pain and bring sunshine into his life.

Shoving aside a pizza box, several empty beer bottles, and a smushed bag of chips, he picked up the remote to the TV. He flipped it on and pressed play. The movie depicting a shaggy beast and a village maid flashed across the screen. He hit fast forward until he reached one of his favorite parts. “You’re so messed up, buddy. Watching a kid’s vid.”

But he felt close to Caitlin every time he watched it. He turned up the volume when the castle objects came to life and broke into song. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the couch.

She made him feel almost human again.

For three days, Caitlin had tamed the beast inside him. She had captivated him with her humor, trusted him even when she was afraid, and earned his respect for being a strong, determined woman. It hadn’t taken him long to realize the weekend of role-play was more intense and demanding than she’d been prepared for.

Yet, she’d risen to the challenge, accepted his rules, and participated with a willingness he had to admire. Even the spanking scene. She could have used her safeword and ended everything, but he’d seen the pride in her eyes, along with a bit of fear.

Yes, he admired her. And loved her. But the night of the ball had brought home the reality and painful fact that he wasn’t a prince who’d won the heart of his princess. He wasn’t whole and healthy with the rest of his life spread out before him, and he sure as hell didn’t deserve a fairy tale ending. No, he truly was the beast, doomed to a life alone.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. Many called him a war hero. Hell, he had a medal that said so, but the only heroic action he’d committed was leaving Caitlin. He loved her over his own needs and flat out refused to become a burden. She’d taken care of her mother, raised her brother and sister. He would not be another obligation. She was better off without him.

The doorbell rang. He ignored it. The bell sang through the studio again. And again. And again.

Swearing, he got stiffly to his feet and shouted, “What the fuck do you want?”

He yanked the door open to the jarring peal. His jaw dropped and then snapped shut at the sight of Glorie Amadori standing with her red-tipped nail pressed to the button. She wore a red silk tunic and black slacks, her two favorite colors.

He glared at her. “What the hell are you doing here?”

She smiled. “My, did you wake on the wrong side of the bed.” She strode in, glanced around. “Or should I say wrong side of the couch?”

“Not in the mood.” As usual, her hair was pulled back in a bun of sorts. The severe style a perfect fit for her dominant personality.

“No, you’d rather brood, mope, and feel sorry for yourself.” She proceeded to open his curtains.

Light spilled in, blinding Damon. He blinked, held up his hand. “Dammit, Glorie. Have your say, then get the hell out.”

“And leave you to your fun and games?” She paused in front of the TV.

Embarrassed, he grabbed the remote and flipped off the DVD player. “What do you want?”

“Besides seeing you walking among the living again instead wallowing in the darkness?” She leaned against the window frame. “Sit and get off that leg.”

At the command in her voice, he rolled his eyes. “Not one of your subs, Mistress.”

“Then do it because you’re in pain, unless you don’t mind falling flat on your face in front of me.”

He knew Glorie wouldn’t leave until she was good and ready so he plopped down and rested his foot on the coffee table. He rubbed his thigh. “Fine. Sitting. Now what?”

“Bryce and I are worried. You left the event early.”

Damon wanted her to leave. He wanted to be alone. No crime in that. His choice. “Is there a question in here?”

“You’ve never left an event early. So yeah, why this time?” She paced.

“None of your business,” Damon said.

“Making it my business. It’s time someone took you in hand so you’re coming with me. I have something to show you.”

With her hands on her hips, chin jutting, he half expected her to pull out a whip and snap it. Too bad she didn’t do anything for him, or he might try to use sex to get the feel, scent, and image of Caitie from his mind. “Not interested.”

“Tough shit. Now get your ass off that couch and take a shower. And make it fast.” She lifted a brow. “Unless you want me to join you and wash your back.”

Two hours later, he was still stewing. Glorie had badgered, threatened, and refused to leave until he escaped into the bathroom, locking the door. He wouldn’t put anything past the sneaky, wily Domme, who could, would, and often did change her sexual preferences to suit her mood and the needs of those around them. He’d participated in one of her threesome scenes and had to admit, the woman was good, but the only woman he wanted was out of his reach.

“Where the hell are you taking me, Glorie?”

“You’ll see.”

As that was the fourth time he’d asked and received the same answer, he fell back into a sullen silence.

Another thirty minutes passed before she spoke. “We’ve been friends for a long time, Damon.”

“So.” He had a feeling he wouldn’t like what was coming.

“So, as your friend, I’m worried about you.”

“Leave it, Glorie. This isn’t something you can fix.” The woman was a born matchmaker. If a relationship was broken or faltering, she just had to stick her arrogant nose in and fix it. He went cold inside.

“You wouldn’t?” He eyed the passing landscape as they sped down a two-lane highway in her BMW. Fields of wheat with an occasional house, farm, or ranch. Cows, sheep, and even horses were seen grazing.

Horses. Ranch.

“Fuck!” He suddenly knew where they were headed. “Turn around, Glorie. I’m not going to Caitlin’s ranch.

She smiled grimly. “Too late.”

She slowed and turned onto a drive. A sign hanging over an arch welcomed them to For the Love of Horses.

“Stop.”

He stared out at pastures with horses grazing. A small herd ran alongside the car as though they were the welcoming committee. “What are you doing, Glorie?”

She stopped the car. “Saving you. Or rather, bringing you here for Caitie to do that job.” She chuckled. “She’d correct me and say only you can save yourself. And she’s right.” She put a hand on his injured thigh. The tight muscle jumped. “Give her a chance, Damon. Give yourself a chance. She wanted you to come and see her ranch. I know you care for her. You’ve never left an event before the end, and the state of your apartment tells me you’re in pain, and not just physical.”

“Doesn’t matter what I feel. Reality’s a bitch.” God, he longed to be her man, her hero. Her prince.

Before he could order her to take him home, a loud honk had Gloria moving forward. Glancing back, he saw a truck and horse trailer following, making turning around impossible. “Fine. We’ll look, and then we’re gone.”

She drove into the yard. An old, grizzled ranch hand hurried to her window. “Got a trailer kissin’ yer ass. Don’t want that beamer to get hit. Park over there.” He pointed to an area where several pickups were parked.

Glorie and Damon stepped out into utter chaos. A group of men came on the run to deal with the horse trailer while others rode across the yard. There was movement everywhere he looked. The noise level was astounding—yelling, shouting, horses calling, adding their voices to the din.

“Name’s Dusty,” the old ranch hand shouted in order to be heard.

“Damon.” He shook the man’s hand, surprised to find the grip strong and firm.

“Welcome, Damon. I’m guessing you be the new one.”

“New what?” He felt as though he’d stepped back in time to the wild, wild west. Men in boots, hats, and plaid shirts went about their business. Some rode, others led their mounts.

“Let’s go meet your buddy.”

Glancing at Glorie, the woman shrugged. He had to hurry to address Dusty. “I think you’ve made a mistake. I’m just here for a quick visit. Where is Caitlin?”

“Oh, she’ll be here soon enough. Never misses greeting new arrivals, be they men or horses. Now move that ass. Need your help over here.”

Damon followed as four horses were offloaded. He frowned. Two were in bad shape. Rib and hipbones protruding and dull, dirty coats. Three of the animals kept trying to shy away from the men. Then Caitlin arrived. She didn’t glance at him, didn’t acknowledge his presence. Instead, her focus was on the horses. She spoke softly and gently to each one, then gave instructions.

“Damon, could you come over here?” She held the reins of the two in bad shape.

He joined her. “Caitlin—”

“Look at them. Mistreated, abused, and abandoned. Now they’ll find hope, contentment, and happiness. They’ll never go hungry or be alone. They’ll learn to trust and love. Their lives start here. And they’ll live to be old and die here.”

“I’m not a horse to be saved, Caitlin. I’m not abused or mistreated or starved.” He shoved aside the abandonment he’d felt as a child. He’d gotten over his childhood a long time ago but knew he’d never forgive himself for abandoning his men.

She met his gaze, her whiskey-dark eyes churning with emotion and the sheen of tears. “You abuse yourself, Damon. You mistreat
you,
and you are as starved as any of these horses. Not of food but of acceptance and forgiveness. Like each of these animals, you’ve lost hope. These animals were helpless to change their situations. They couldn’t fight for happiness. But you can.” Her gaze turned intense. “And you will.”

She cupped the side of his face with one hand. “I’m not asking you to stay for me, not even asking for you to give us a chance. I want to help you heal and find your way back.”

He lowered his forehead to hers. “Caitlin…”

His throat closed off, stopping him from telling her he didn’t deserve what she offered. He closed his eyes. He was better off alone, but her touch, her scent, her voice arrowed deep into his being. Some long-denied part of him screamed for what she offered.

A hard nudge to his shoulder threw him off balance, and he landed on his ass. Blinking, he glared at the black horse with sad eyes staring down at him. She lowered her head and snorted, her breath fanning his face. “What the hell?”